


Dirty Tricks

by QueenRadish



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: F/M, I might turn my girl into a fuller fanfic later on, Pining, but I just had this really cute idea for them now so here you go, in this house we yearn like men, there is NOT ENOUGH raul content i am here to REMEDY THAT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24419590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenRadish/pseuds/QueenRadish
Summary: Raul wondered how he'd gotten rescued by the most charismatic woman in the Mojave desert. Out of curiosity on the night before their big arrival at the strip, he asks her just what she plans to do when she finally meets the man that shot her.
Relationships: Female Courier/Raul Tejada
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	Dirty Tricks

“So,” Raul prodded, idly stoking the embers around their campfire, “Can I ask a question, Boss?”

Alte looked up from her compact, though it was such a dusty, cracked, sad little thing Raul wondered if she saw much of anything. Maybe it was the motion that counted, he wondered – though she hardly needed to even _pretend_ to gussy up. He felt reminded of that the minute she flashed a wide, painted grin.

“Of course, Raul,” she said. Alte snapped the compact shut and crossed her legs. “And I’ve told you – stop with the ‘Boss’ nonsense. I’m not paying you.”

“Not asking you to pay me, mija.” Raul chuckled. “Just respect that me and my old bones are creatures of habit.”

Alte rolled her eyes mightily and tossed back her head, finalizing it with a rougher-than-expected shove at his shoulder. He forgot she lugged that sniper rifle around like it was jerky. “Oh, hush with that ‘old bones’ nonsense. You can’t convince me you were some vaquero hotshot just to suddenly turn into a doddering geezer the minute a little radiation hit you. Now, ask your question before I pummel you.”

There she went – flashing that smile again, and the combination with her languid, easy compliments were doing more than what was healthy to his heart. But, as he’d figured, that was Alte in her element – more charisma packed into those slender shoulders than in the entire Strip, along with a complete awareness of it all (except, apparently, when it came to him). It was like watching a magic trick; he’d just stand back, watch, see Alte bat her long, kohl-covered lashes and earn them a room for the night, or a hot meal, or half the ammo off some poor fool’s belt, and she’d be smiling that same sweet, dazzling smile the whole time.

He’d met pretty girls before. He’d met bombshells who’d sweet-talk him during his wild days for a ride on his motorcycle, or sharp-smiled little things after the war that had no interest in his mottled grin or pocked hands, but at least didn’t put him down like a dog. But he’d never met anyone quite like Alte. When she’d burst into Tabitha’s radio station, panting and messy and asking him in rapid Spanish if he was “the pendejo who should have warned her he was at the top of a goddamn _mountain_ ”, Raul remembered wondering if God had changed the look of his angels since he’d been away.

“Raul?” Alte asked. She was waving her slender fingers in his face. “Mojave to Raul. If you don’t answer, I’m going to start drawing lewd pictures on your face.”

“You could pick a smoother canvas,” Raul said, lightly smacking her hand away. “Sorry, Boss, lost in thought.”

“I know I’m distracting,” Alte winked, and god, she _couldn’t_ know what that did to him, “But please, continue.”

Clearing his throat, Raul turned back, focusing on the fire instead of getting burned. “I was just wondering what you’re going to do when you find him. You know,” he spared a glance, just to see her eyes darken, though it was hard to see in the night, “Benny.”

Alte was only quiet for a second. She pursed her lips, then smirked, smoothing a piece of deep red hair off her brown, freckled cheek. “I’m delighted you asked, Raul.”

“Oh?”

“As a matter of fact,” Alte stood up in one swift motion, back arching as she stretched. “I’ve had a plan for a while.”

He saw that glint of danger in her smile, the kind she got when she spotted a legionary through her scope, ninety yards away. Raul just leaned back on his hands, watching the casual grace with which his courier positioned herself in front of a tall cactus – which, he realized shortly, was supposed to represent Benny.

“This ought to be good,” he muttered. Alte grinned again.

“Now, Raul,” she chided, “Are you doubting me?”

“Dios mio, no, Boss,” Raul immediately waved a hand, snorting, “I’m old, but I’m not stupid.”

“You are stupid, because you’re somehow convinced you’re old,” Alte shot back. She just smiled again, something softer this time, and rolled her eyes. “But, because I love you, I’m going to let you have your little fantasies.”

_You could not have picked a worse way to word that_ , Raul thought to himself, mentally reforming every last syllable she’d just said. She didn’t mean it like that. Never meant it like that. This was Alte, who oozed charm and kindness and passion like an overripe fruit, and unfortunately he just had to collect the excess without tasting a drop.

His metaphors were getting increasingly worse.

When he came back to the world of the living, Alte was already facing off at Cactus-Benny, with one finger pointed in a pantomime of a pistol. Raul rose a browbone and folded his arms.

“I’m going to walk in there, see,” Alte muttered, “Right into the Tops. Real slow, so that everybody sees the biggest mistake Benny Gecko’s ever made is walking right towards him.” Like she possibly needed to sell it any more, Raul saw her slow, careful steps, and almost had a stab of pity for the inanimate plant at her mercy. It was like watching a wildcat about to pounce. “And I’ll give him plenty of time to see me, too. But he won’t run. He’ll probably splutter something stupid, or try to play it cool, and I’ll let him. That fink sure loves to talk.”

Raul’s mouth went a little dry, watching her lick her lips, imagining the scenario. He wondered if she realized any man was damn lucky to be killed by her. “And,” she continued, “when he’s done? I’ll put my pistol to his skull, and say: ‘Ring-a-ding-ding, motherfucker! Give me my fucking chip!”

She mimed a somewhat goofy-looking blast and hollered in success. Raul had five seconds in her cheering to look like he hadn’t been practically dumbstruck by the glow of her skin in the firelight. When she turned, he fixed her with a chuckle and what he hoped was a doubtful smirk.

“That’s great, boss,” he said, “But you probably won’t be allowed back in the Tops after that. Not to mention – how are you gonna smuggle a pistol right into the main floor?”

Alte pouted and quickly trotted over to give him another – much weaker - shove. “Oh, let me have my dreams, Raul! It’s about the drama, the _drama_!”

“Yes, yes, you and your ‘drama’, I know,” Raul didn’t bother to shove her off this time – just let her hands linger, a warmth he somehow felt even with his botched nerves. “But please don’t tell me you’re actually going to say ‘Ring-a-ding-ding’.”

Alte, to his surprise, didn’t let him go. Her fingers were still latched on his bare forearm. She stuck her tongue out and flipped a part of her crimson bangs out of her eyes. “And why shouldn’t I? I think it’s catchy!”

“Sure, boss, if you’re a cartoon character.” Raul snickered at the playful glower he received. “And I should know, because I’m old enough to-“

“You’re not _old_!” Alte interrupted, laughing as she seized his neck in a headlock. Raul made a half-hearted attempt at escaping, but she was behind him now, trying her now familiar trick of attempting to tie his unrolled jumpsuit sleeves together, therefore trapping his hands. She’d done it once as a prank while he slept, and thought it hilarious enough that she’d been trying to do it again ever since. Raul still didn’t have the heart to tell her he’d been awake the entire time, that night – just reveling in the fact that she was close enough he could smell the berry stain on her lips.

“I’m flattered, boss, really,” Raul said, expertly tugging his hands away from every one of her grips, “But you’re going to give a ghoul ideas, pawing at him like this.”

Alte suddenly paused, her breath hitting him across his jaw. “Maybe,” she breathed, “I want to.”

Raul had forgotten what radiation used to feel like on smooth skin, but he reckoned it felt something like this, with the way his gut nearly burst into flames right then and there. He seized, words failing him, which gave Alte ample time to jump around to his front and hurriedly tie his sleeves together in a haphazard knot. He looked down at the bundle dumbly, then back at her toothy, wide smile, and wheezed, “That was dirty, boss.”

“Want me to show you dirty, vaquero?” Alte purred. If it hadn’t come with a purposefully cheesy raise of her brows, Raul almost might have fooled himself into thinking she meant it. Even so, the little lilt of her ‘vaquero’, that teasing glint in her eye – he felt flashes of memories, old gunslinger days grinning at him under a hot, happy sun, and something ferocious seized his chest. Before he knew it, Raul was looping his sleeve-knot around her neck and tugging her closer, until his lips were nearly brushing the smooth, smooth skin of her outer ear.

“What did I say about giving me ideas, chiquita?” he purred from somewhere foreign in him, “Don’t call a man a vaquero, unless you want him to act like one.”

He leaned back, slowly, and there was no mistaking the pure, apple-red dusting Alte’s face, her eyes wide and lips parted. He’d never quite seen her speechless before, he realized. A little sliver of pride licked at his gut at the thought that he’d changed that.

Before he started to regret it, Raul unlooped his sleeves from her neck and used his teeth to untie them. Alte was still silent next to him, and he would have worried he’d overdone it, if not for the same, glassy-eyed stare she was giving his face – particularly, his mouth-, a stare he recognized from much, much younger days. That sliver of pride grew a little higher, and he allowed himself a smirk.

“Mojave to Boss,” he called. She jumped and jerked her head away from him, clearing her throat.

“…That was dirty, Raul,” she muttered, without much heat. He laughed, grateful she couldn’t see the heat in his cheeks instead.

“If you say so, boss. If you say so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is just a one shot for now, but I'm highly considering turning these two into a much longer fanfic - featuring Alte's infamous rescue scene, of course. If you'd like me to, I'd love to hear about it! Otherwise thanks again!


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